Friends
by Darklady
Summary: (slash) A chance meeting between Captain Marvel and....
1. Friends

2 -Friends.html Friends   
A (mostly) Captain Marvel Story  
  
by Darklady  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. In fact, this one isn't exactly owned by anybody any more. Or rather he's owned by lots of folks. DC, Marvel. Faucett, whoever. But the way I see it, if they can share with each other they can share with me. So there!  
  
Slash: (Off stage, but with underage implications. Sort of.)  
  
Pairing: Captain Marvel and....I don't want to spoil the surprise.  
  
Sequel to: Looking for William Batson  
  
Rated: R  
  
Archive: Ask first  
  
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Ten PM. Black leather. Jagermiester. Back booth at the Tattered Jack. Not my usual choices, but I like the variety. After your first half century in the sixth grade, that change of pace starts to become important.  
  
I've been here longer then I expected. Longer then *anyone* in here expected. Hell, I know what I look like. I've had time enough to become intimately acquainted with this form. Normally I'm out of here before I'm even really in. Even when I go booth rather then bar. Tonight? Tonight is ... different.  
  
I'm on my *third* beer - which must be a lifetime record. If alcohol affected me, I'd have to start tapering off about now. As it is? I take another look around the narrow room. The bar-stroll floor show has mostly given up on me, and the looks from the other tables are going from hungry to curious, and are gonna start edging into suspicious. Still... wisdom of Solomon. When it isn't right, it isn't right.  
  
I'm actually thinking of calling it a night and heading back to Billy-ville when *he* walks in.  
  
Green as grass and tender as chicken. I can actually *hear* the breathing stop when he comes through the door. Sable hair, ink-blue eyes, built like a 1920 Charles Atlas, and not a damn idea of what to do with any of it. If he's not a virgin, I'll... well, I'll be very lucky.  
  
Three heart beats and the breathing has resumed - a bit heavier this time.  
  
The kid is standing in the aisle - not quite at the bar but looking. Two of the regular 'trade' have moved apart to make space. They know it's his place even if he doesn't. Half the table crowd starts reaching for large bills. It's isn't polite to buy the drink before your mark orders it, but they sure as hell aren't going to risk slapping down a five. This guy is crisp hundreds and 'let the kid keep the change'. The other half? They're not virtuous - they just have club tabs. From the not-quite-discrete hand-signals, the kid is suddenly on most of them.  
  
Damn. I meet the bartender's eye and give him a *look*. My tab too, and the others can just write it off. Joe knows better then to even hesitate. I out mass the rest of the place by at least a quarter, and while I may bottom I am damn-well nobodies *bottom*. A few would-be 'masters' had to be reminded the hard way, but after that? A real polite respect for human diversity reigns in this club. Reverend Jackson would be proud of us.   
  
So tonight the kid drinks with me. Not that I'm gonna get a damn thing for my dime.  
  
Kid has finally eased up to the bar. Sort of. Not actually touching, but close enough not to shout when he orders a 'beer'. Probably his first time for that, too. He might be over 16 - has to be, with that much muscle - but not by enough. He is nowhere *near* twenty-one. So even if he's 'legal', he's not legal. Damn. There are days when it really *sucks* to be one of the good guys. Unfortunately, in my case they didn't make it optional. So? Here goes two people's lovely evening shot to hell.  
  
I slide out of the booth and head for the bar. Five steps. I'm not the first to start, but I'm the only one to get there. The other boothies have the brains to sit back once they see the score. A few waves and shrugs as I pass. No hard feelings. I want the kid, he's mine. Like I said, I'm known. This is a nice neighborhood shack, and at ten no one's stoned enough to be seriously stupid. Although if there was a guy worth being seriously stupid for?  
  
Joe slaps a beer on the counter and the kid gives it the 'do I have to drink this' look. I solve the problem by picking it up myself.   
  
"Joe?" I signal the bartender. "My friend here will have a Soder."   
  
Damn again. Up close the kid is even hotter. Deep chest. Narrow waist. Shoulders like a young Superman. Unfortunately, the operative word there is young. Too young. Quivering eager, but cherry-fresh and too *damn* young. It's like hitting the Warrior's Vegas buffet when you're on a diet. Self control. I force my eyes back up.  
  
"You can't..." The kid makes a face and bristles, although I get the clear feeling he's just as relieved to have something he'd *like* to drink without having to play the dweeb and ask for it.  
  
I give him my best Saturday-cartoon-idol idol smile."You want Zesti? You looked more like a Soder guy to me."  
  
"Look, I don't know ..." His words falter as he gets a good look at me. I'm used to it. I have that effect on most people - even when I'm not wearing my leathers. Actually, *especially* when I'm not wearing my leathers. Although the big red cheese outfit usually gets the stutters *without* the interesting diversion of blood. Oh, yes, I can actually feel things like variant body temperature if I focus. Used to make a fun distraction during dull JLA meetings.  
  
"You're right, you don't know. I do." Hoisting the kid's former mug, I take a sip. Not quite Jagermiester, but the house draft is drinkable. "I know what you came here looking for, and it's not the beer. So... my booth is the right rear."  
  
"Or?"   
  
Tough kid. He's layering on the attitude, but his pupils are dilated like crazy, and it isn't just from the lousy lighting in this place. He's interested. I give him another smile.  
  
"Or you drink your Soder and go."  
  
"Big man, eh?"  
  
I bend forward, ostensibly to put a ten on the counter, but actually to let 'little Billy' brush against his leg. "What do you think?"  
  
He pulls out a bill. "I can pay for my own drinks."  
  
"OK." I make a half-gesture as he steps out before me. "Joe? Bring the young man's change to my table."  
  
There are the usual envious glares as we make our way back to my spot. I'm almost tempted to return them. Almost. After all, if they were lucky they'd be *lucky*, and I most likely am going home alone. But frankly the view is too good to waste on distractions. It's not a crime to look, and the view of that boy walking in front of me is *definitely* worth looking at. I don't know what sort of workout he does to get an ass that looks like you could bounce small planetoids off it, but whatever it is he should keep doing it.  
  
What the hell, I decide suddenly. Maybe I *can* take the kid's name. Even his phone number. Call him sometime. A year or two from now is not that long, when you've been around as long as I have, and there's something to be said for advance planning.  
  
I hold out my hand. "I'm Billy."  
  
"Connal." He has a nice, firm shake. Not wanna-be limp, but not trying to bust my knuckles either. Just confident and polite. A lot like the kid would be anyplace other then this.  
  
He slides into a bench and I take the other side. Not without regrets, but I *am* a good guy. As I so painfully remind certain less virtuous parts of my anatomy.  
  
"Friends call you Con?"  
  
He scowls at that."Some of them."  
  
"What do your folks call you?"  
  
"Nothing. I don't have any."  
  
Not likely. He's got that fresh scrubbed look that practically screams mall-brat middle-America, and that vitamin-groomed body is covered by the type of casual sloppiness that set someone back most of a thousand. Three hundred plus for the fancy leather jacket at minimum.   
  
I give him a 'stop bull-shitting' look. "Awfully nice jacket for a street kid."  
  
"I'm not..." He hesitates, then leans forward, uncertain but determined. "Look, I'm not a pro, if that's what you're thinking. I'm just... independent. But if you have a problem..."  
  
"I don't have a problem." Well, none but the one that keeps reminding me that it's been a long time now, and couldn't just this *once* we forget about the 'relieve the problems of the world' stuff and start relieving something a little closer to home. "I just want to make sure you don't. This place is nice enough, but... things can get rough."  
  
"Nothing I can't handle."  
  
"So they all say. How old are you? And don't try to lie."  
  
He practically levitates to his feet."Look, if I wanted a grandfather I'd be in Kansas. Thanks for the Soder but I'm outta here."  
  
"Sit *down* kid."  
  
My finger grab his shoulder and - for the first time in years - do not hold. He pulls away as if his skin was coated in some magic Teflon.  
  
"What the..." I look at him, shocked. "You shouldn't have..."  
  
He is rubbing his arm, his expression wavering somewhere between awe and horror. "How could you..."  
  
The truth dawns slowly, but it dawns simultaneously. I watch the pain slide over his face, and I feel it on mine.  
  
"Who are....NO!" He backs away, shaking his head slowly. "I don't want to know..."  
  
I could let him go. I think I would have, but suddenly all the pieces fall into place. Fall like a glass vase that somehow manages to shatter in just the right pattern, and that pattern spells 'Krypton' in glowing green letters.  
  
"It's OK, Kon. I'm not here for your brother.. or father... or whatever you call him. And I'm not one of the bad guys. I'm not..."  
  
"Who are you?"he whispers.  
  
I answer carefully. "I'm Billy. William Batson." My finger lightly traces a lightning bolt on the table top.  
  
"You're..." I see his lips form the words he can't quite bring himself to speak. "And you're...."  
  
"Not quite as white bread as you thought?"  
  
He doesn't answer. Can't. He's to busy putting his world back on it's axis. Maybe I should just end it here, but that feels wrong. Which means it *is* wrong. Besides, I really don't think the kid should be flying after the shock he just had.  
  
I drop a twenty for a tip. Not earned, but it will keep the waiter happy. That's important in a place like this.  
  
"Bar is no place for this. Why don't we go back to my place?" I watch his face pass from pleasure to denial to fear. "We can order in a pizza and talk. Just talk. And maybe later go out flying or something."  
  
Kid looks down like a man who's floor just dissolved to leave him standing on a tight rope over a pool of sharks. But he also looks happy. Strange, I know, but there it is.  
  
"You don't want to...?" he asks.  
  
"Sure. Eventually. Maybe." I shrug. "But I can get laid any time. Tonight, I think maybe I've found a friend."  
  
*FINIS*  
  



	2. Shazam!

This fic is dedicated to Dannell of Blessed Memory (founder of the First Church of the Divine Moley), and to Tinn (who asked nicely.) Both of whom write *very* nice fic for me, and deserve a lot more then just this.  
  
Also - while this is a series of short stories, I am posting it in chapter format to make things easier on everybody. FF.net especially. Some stories will be in closer continuity then others.  
  
  
SHAZAM!!   
A (mostly) Captain Marvel Story  
  
by Darklady  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. DC owns Superboy, and they mostly got Captain Marvel too. But this incarnation is mine-all-mine. So there!  
  
Slash: Yes! At last!  
  
Pairing: Captain Marvel /Superboy  
  
Sequel to: Looking for William Batson, Friends.  
  
Rated: R - Hard R. NOT for children. If you are one - leave NOW!  
  
Archive: Ask first - if you want it anywhere other then here.  
  
Feedback: Is my drug of choice.  
  
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I pick up the phone and hit the speed dial.  
  
"Anchovies?"  
  
"What?"  
  
Kid...Kon... is straining his neck trying to look over the apartment while not letting me *see* him look. Not that there anything that interesting. Standard two bedroom box with Sears furniture. I keep the 'interesting' souvenirs where stray burglars are less likely to stumble across them.  
  
"You want anchovies on your pizza?"  
  
"Not...unless you want them." He gives me a look like wanting anchovies would be weirder then, well, just about anything. "I mean, I can eat just about anything." Which confirms the look. I decide to pass on the fish.  
  
"Pepperoni, onion, double cheese?"  
  
"Kewl."  
  
"OK." I give the order to the guy at the pizza place. He knows the address. I'm a regular customer. They do a good pie, and they deliver fast. That done, I turn back to Kon who is still inspecting the paint. "We've got about fifteen minutes. Take a seat...  
  
Kon perches on the edge of the sofa. Hands on knees, ankles crossed - same position Billy would take in the principles office - if Billy ever did any thing bad enough to *get* sent to the principles office.   
  
"You live here?" The tone implies either a palace or a dungeon. Although given the company, I suppose he'd find either more probably then a two-bedroom apartment.  
  
"Something wrong?" I ask, heading for the kitchen. Skip the plates, but we will need napkins and maybe a knife. I don't know if he has the heat vision, and even if he does it might not work on processed cheese. That yellow plastic is as indestructible as it is indigestible.  
  
"Uh, No.. It's nice, Just..."  
  
I know what it's just, but I cant resist teasing a little. "What were you expecting? Crystal Cave? Fortress of Solitude?"  
  
"Well, yeh, I guess..." He squirms a bit. In a kid it would be cute. In his case? I remind little Billy that no matter *what* those muscles do Kon is underage, and until that changes he's only here to talk.  
  
Just for something to say, I ask. "Where do you live?"  
  
"Right now?" More squirms and a blush. "That's sort of... Uh... I used to have this place in Hawaii, but..."  
  
I remember now. It was on the news. Massive destruction of some type.  
  
"Good Advice number one Kon. Set up someplace 'cosmic', show it to the press, then *don't* live there. That keeps the wacos from busting up your stuff."  
  
He nods, serious. "Makes sense. I guess"  
  
I open the fridge, checking for drinks. Tahitian Punch for me. I've had enough beer tonight. And for him? "Kon? I ask. "Which way you go?"  
  
I can feel the blush from here. "I sorta thought..."  
  
"I mean Soder or Zesti?"  
  
"Oh!" He starts breathing again. "Either. They're both pretty much.. well, I like Squort."  
  
I reach for the green can. "Got that too. Here."  
  
I spin the can through the air. He catches it mid-flight. Normally I wouldn't risk a stunt like that, but if you can't relax with your own kind?  
  
Grabbing my own can and a big bag of nacho chips, I head back to the living room.  
  
"Gee." Kon blinks at the chips as if I were offering him Kryptonite. "I thought you'd have like..."  
  
"Health food?" Sitting on the sofa arm, I tear open the bag. "Why? It's not like I'm the Bat. What I eat doesn't affect me - except maybe when Billy pigs out on chocos. Billy gets a good lunch at school, and me? I'd rather eat out. Guess I didn't get the cooking skills of Aspecius." I give that a thought. It's not like he objected to pizza, so chips? " Why? Are you into natural foods. I could call and change the pie to veggie."  
  
"No. No veggies." Kon gives a half-chuckle. "I'd rather do burgers and stuff, but.. I keep thinking I ought to. Like setting a good example or something."  
  
So that's it. "Good advice two. Set the example when you're flying around. We owe people that. But after hours?" I pass him the chip bag. "You have to have a life sometime."  
  
"Like at...?" His question stutters out on his third blush. Not that I mind being hard on the kids blood pressure. Lord knows he has an effect on mine. I just wish it was for something I was *doing*.  
  
This isn't something I normally discuss. I mean - what's to discuss? The crew at the Jack aren't there to talk. At least not philosophically. Any discussion of my sexual tastes tends to be both specific and immediate. But sex in general? Gayness in general? I haven't discussed that topic for years. Those who know *that* don't know me - and those who know the Captain don't know... much of anything at all, as long as I have any say in the matter. But it's what he's here for, so...  
  
I give him my most 'marvelous' smile. "The Tattered Jack? Sure." Leaning back, I make sure I look comfortable. No way I'm traumatizing the kid with negative self images, or whatever screwing this up would do. "I was trolling for tail. That shock you?"   
  
"No, of course not," he lies. "Its just..."  
  
"Truth now."  
  
"No!" Half a shout, followed by blush number four. "I mean, yes." He looks at me, confused. "You're Captain Marvel. You're like this *icon* of purity. You don't even swear. Except for maybe that Holy Moley sh..stuff." Blush number five. On him it's adorable.  
  
I give him another smile. "Hey, take it from me - Moley can be one mean mother."  
  
*brring*  
  
Kon looks at the door, grateful for the interruption. "Pizza guy." Kid either has the x-ray vision or a firm grasp of the obvious. "He's fast."  
  
Standing up, I reach for my wallet. "I tip well."  
  
I take the pizza and pay the delivery girl.  
  
"Grab some napkins, will you?" I drop the box on the table, shoving a few magazines under the box to protect the surface. "And you could take off your jacket."  
  
"Oh, sure." He pulls at the leather with unsteady fingers. "Where should...?"  
  
I take the jacket and hang it by the door. "Relax, Kon, I'm not going to jump you."  
  
"Oh." I can't tell if he's relieved or disappointed, and I'd bet a dollar he doesn't know either.  
  
"OK. So maybe I will. Someday." I shrug. "But I'll give you fair warning. Cross my heart." I look at the sofa until he scrunches over to make room. Not that the other chair isn't just as close to the food, but this gives me an excuse for rubbing up against the kid. Who is very much worth rubbing against. And hey - he's not *that* young. A few kisses over pizza won't scar him for life.  
  
He tenses, then forces himself *not* to pull away."I'm sorry, It's just that..."  
  
"You've never done this before." In fact, I'd guess he hasn't had much skin-to-skin contact of any sort. He's skittish as hell. I remind myself to take it slowly. He's here as a friend. Maybe a student. Not as a date. Worse luck.  
  
"I'm sorry," he says again.  
  
I don't quite know what he's sorry for. He doesn't either. Being a teen? Being a meta? Being gay? Probably all the above and more, including being born.  
  
"Don't be." I make a show of reaching for chips, and finish with my leg tucked under his. "What is it with guys that they think they have to apologize because they haven't put t in everything hollow except the Chunnel?"  
  
"Just that..." He gives me a kicked-puppy look. "Is it *that* obvious?"  
  
He's so clearly hoping I'll say no, but...  
  
"Totally." I grin. "Which is the second reason every man at that bar was drooling over your ass before you even got it through the door. You won't believe me for a couple of years, but... I'll tell you anyway. Innocence is hot. Very hot. Don't be in such a hurry to lose it."  
  
"Second?" He looks up at me under long sable lashes.  
  
Holly Hannah! Must be those Kryptonian genes. That color of blue just doesn't happen in humans. Which is a pity, because it's a shade of ocean I could gladly drown in.   
  
"Definitely number two," I answer.  
  
That gets me another look - about like the look you get if you pat a homeless dog.   
  
I send a sharp reminder to 'little Billy' not to get his hopes - or anything else - up. Kon is a nice kid, and I like him a lot, but he's *too young* for anything more then kisses. End of argument. At least until he's twenty-one.  
  
"Number one is..." I grin. "You know what you look like."  
  
"Well. Yes."  
  
He shrugs. Just an unconscious gesture on his part, but we are so close that I feel his chest brush against my arm. His muscular, perfectly developed, covered-with-a-skin-tight-shirt chest. Little Billy reminds me that legal age has changed since I was born. He has a point. Nowadays twenty might be old enough.  
  
"Look, if you're just gonna lecture me, could you sort of..." Kon makes the zap sign with his hand. "I think I could take it easier from Big Red, 'cause... the leather gig.. it's distracting. I mean, I get the image you're going to paddle my ass, and it doesn't feel exactly like that would be a bad idea ... So.." His finger goes to his neck, imitating the steel and leather band on mine.  
  
"OK."  
  
He glances around, expecting lightning. Not a chance. I pull off the dog collar and pull on a t-shirt that was over the chair. I really should clean better, but I wasn't expecting guests.   
  
"That better?"  
"A little. But..."  
  
"But what?"  
  
He shifts again. "You're still ... hot."  
  
I move closer. "So are you. Which you know. The blue eyes alone could get you..."  
  
"It hasn't gotten me as much as you'd think.  
  
He slumps. Head down, hands slack. Which has the nice effect of getting me an armful of Kon. Very nice. But - under the circumstances - wasted.   
  
"You mean you're a total virgin?"  
  
"No!" He shudders at the word. "Well, not *absolutely*. I mean, I got *somewhere* with Tanya. And there was this guy. I can't say his name, but... but.. well.... I mean..."  
  
"I take it that means yes?"  
  
"No!" He shrinks in on himself. "I mean...sort of. I mean...I guess... if you mean.... Maybe." I get the kicked puppy look again, this time with a hint of starving kitten. " Is that a problem?"  
  
I decide that twenty will *definitely* be old enough. And that sixteen is not *that* young. And that maybe *more* then just a few kisses would be OK. Kisses and hugs. After all, kids do grow up fast nowadays. And making out isn't really *sex*. More like affection. But... I remind 'little Billy' - that is *it*.  
  
"Only if you really *don't* want me breathing heavy tonight." I pull him over and rub his shoulders. "Like I told you - innocent is *hot*."  
  
"Then you?" Kon rubs back, his cheek against my shoulder.  
  
"Did I say every *other* man?" I pull him a bit closer. His hair smells like musk and cinnamon. "Of course I want your ass. I just want it a little less then I want to NOT screw up your mind."   
  
"You mean if I wasn't...?" He makes the 'S' sign over his chest. Then we could...?" The starving kitten has just been handed the deed to the cream factory. I can feel the purr.  
  
I allow myself one more squeeze before gently sitting back. Four years is suddenly looking like a long time.  
  
"If you weren't who you are, you'd be waiting with me for your parents to come pick you up. I *am* one of the good guys."  
  
"But since I am... who I am...?"  
  
"You get pizza. On the couch. We can watch some TV. Then, maybe, when you're older, if I get lucky and you still want me..."  
  
I consider how to end that sentence. Four years is definitely a long time. And eighteen is legal now. Maybe - once he is in college - we might just possibly consider...? The vision comes of a just-slightly-older Kon stretched out over my favorite Scooby sheets. I ignore little Billy's enthusiastic approval of that idea, and decide that I can debate that point later. Tomorrow. When the kid is safely out of reach.  
  
Kon is saying, "I'm old enough..."  
  
"To drink?" I shake my head. "I have eyes, and there is no way you are twenty-one."   
  
"And if I was?"  
  
"If you were...?" I smile at the involuntary vision. "If you were twenty-one you'd be clawing your way through my mattress right about now."  
  
Kon grins. "What will nineteen get me?"  
  
Now it's my turn to look kicked. "You aren't....?"  
  
He pulls out his wallet and drops a yellowed 'Daily Planet' clipping on the table. "As best I can figure I am. I was decanted three years ago today, and they listed me as sixteen then."  
  
I scan the first paragraph. "Superboy clone?" Byline by Lois Lane. Tomorrows date is clear on the top of the article... three years ago. So that means...?  
  
"I know I 'look' sixteen."Kon continues. "It's a clone thing. I always will. I mean, like I'll be this ninety years old in a nursing home and I'll look like this." He makes a vague gesture, halfway between a shrug and a wave. " But really? I'm either nineteen or three...So?"  
  
I guess my arms must have opened, because he was in them before I could answer. Kid's not Flash but he's fast enough. After that I didn't want to answer. My tongue had better things to do then to waste time talking. It was throwing a party, and 'little Billy' was the guest of honor.  
  
It was a good ten minutes - a *very* good ten minutes - before my rational mind reminded the rest of me that 'past eighteen' does not automatically translate into 'available to first offer'. And that eventually even Kryptonian physiology needs air. And that I am a *good guy*. Damn.  
  
I didn't have to let him go completely, but I did have to ask. "Thus the bar?"  
  
"I didn't exactly get a cake." He tenses up, hurt but not willing to show it. "I figured someone there would be happy to see me."  
  
His lips are out of range, so I kiss the floppy curl. "Was that really what you wanted? Anonymous sex with someone you don't know - just cause they are 'happy to see you'?"  
  
"It's better then being kicked in the balls by someone you *do* know."  
  
Which explains a lot. Unfortunately. Grabbing on the rebound is *bad guy* behavior.  
  
"Him or her?" I ask.  
  
"Both."  
  
Double ouch. I automatically pull him just a bit closer, and he lets me.  
  
"Tell me about ... them."  
  
"Well, there was this girl. Tanya. A reporter. She's dead now, but before that?" There is a long pause. "I think she was just using me for the ratings. Or at least..." I can feel him shake his head. "And then there was this guy. We were friends. And we... but he... well, he didn't... I mean.. he wouldn't.. well..."  
  
The narrative peters out, but I get the drift. " I understand." I rub his back in little circles. "Believe me. I've known quite a few that... wouldn't." His ear is just perfect, so I kiss it. "That does not mean he doesn't like you, just that... he likes different things."  
  
"Like girls."  
  
I chuckle. "Usually exactly like girls."  
  
He looks up. Those eyes are pacific-ocean-blue, and I am definitely going down for the third time. Happily. After all, nineteen is... still somewhat young, but... legal. Entirely legal. And he's a very independent nineteen. This time it's at least fifteen delightful minutes before my over-perfect conscience reminds me that he is also * innocent* and on the *rebound*, and legal or not there are definitely maturity issues here. Damn.  
  
I break the kiss and sit up.  
  
Kon looks at me, confused. "So?"  
  
"So...eat your pizza."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"And then we'll talk."  
  
"And then?"  
  
He's adorable. I can't resist one more quick kiss.  
  
"And then we'll see."  
  
He settles back in my arms and picks up a slice of pizza.   
  
I watch him bite through the pepperoni. He has beautiful, perfect white teeth. They type that models try for, and no human quite has.  
  
The tomato sauce drips out, touching his lips. They are slightly fuller and redder then a humans. Not lipstick red. Not feminine. Not even enough so you'd notice, just enough to provide a nice contrast to his slightly tanned skin.  
  
I watch him twist his tongue around the strands of melted cheese, and remind little Billy not to get his hopes up. Among other things.  
  
He has finished four pieces before he speaks again.  
  
"Ah.. Cap..? I mean.. William?"  
  
"Billy."  
  
"Billy?" He looks at me sideways, those infinite blue eyes flashing. "Do you think we could.. like..." He blushes. Hot enough to feel.  
  
"Yes, Kon?" I prompt, rubbing his neck.   
  
"I mean I know we have to talk and all, and I want to. Really but.. do you think.. we could talk... in the morning?"  
  
That catches me by surprise. A happy surprise. "As in.. the morning after?"  
  
He snuggles closer, and his hand lands on my thigh. "Ahh. Well. Yes."  
  
This kiss lasts until we are both gasping. I decide that pepperoni tastes even better when I taste it on him. Possibly *everything* will taste better if it is on him. Which leaves my extremely enhanced mind with an extensive list of all the delightful part of him I would like to taste - with or with condiments.  
  
Kon must share that opinion, because his tongue leaves my lips reluctantly, and then only to discover if the underside of my ear is in fact an erogenous zone. It is. At least, now it is. The soft jabs as the point of his tongue probes into that tight channel feels very good indeed. Almost as good, my memory prompts, as it would feel against *another* tight channel.  
  
Little Billy is seconding that idea, as is apparently every other cell in my body. The 'speed of Mercury' had decided to focus itself on my bloodstream - and my breathing - while the strength of Atlas has settled somewhere else. Somewhere with considerable stamina as well.  
  
I impress even myself by making one last, feeble, effort at responsibility.  
  
"You are *sure* you want this?" I mummer against his throat. "I mean, it's a big step. There should be love, or at least respect, and trust, and..."  
  
"I don't know about love but... I respect you a lot." He giggles. Actually *giggles*. I feel it through my skin like champagne. "Hell, everyone I know respects you... and... I mean? If you can't trust Captain Marvel??"  
  
One last try.  
  
"Enough to let me up your ass? That much trust?"  
  
Crude, I know, but I *want* to shock him. Warn him. Maybe scare him off if he's uncertain. Because while he *feels* right, he also feels *good*, and I know that could just be little Billy talking.  
  
He tenses. Not from rebuke. I'm too clearly wrapped around him for even adolescent angst to feel rejected. Besides which, sitting over my lap as he is he can feel how popular he is with that part of me. But he *is* an innocent.  
  
After a moment, he answers. "Could we... sort of... take it slow?"  
  
I lean over and - finally - allow my hand to run down his back. "I don't see why not. After all, we both have all the time in the world."  
  
That ends the conversation for..well... long enough for the pizza to go dead cold. Not that it's all one kiss. This time I keep those shorter. It's nice to breath. Besides, this way I have the extra time to explore all the other interesting parts. Like the back of his ears, and the hollow of his neck, and the sensitive curves at the start of his shoulders.   
  
When I reach that I decide that his t-shirt is in the way. No problem.   
  
*Riiipppp.*   
  
I can give him another in the morning, and he doesn't seem to be objecting to the loss. Besides, mine goes the same way.   
  
That gets me a wonderful expanse of chest to explore. Virgin territory, to judge by his moans. Kryptonians are relatively hairless - something like American Indians - and they have extremely sensitive nipples. I bite one and he *literally* comes off the couch. Not that I mind. Air space just makes it easier to reach his back.  
  
The pants are a little tougher, so I decide to just unzip them. Easy enough, now that the sofa cushions aren't in the way. I'm glad the modern fashions are loose. A few tugs and the unwanted fashion is on the floor.  
  
Kid goes commando.   
  
I kiss my way down his chest, pausing to lick his navel. Strange that he would have one, being a clone, but he does. Innie. He tastes of cinnamon here too. I spare a passing thought for whether that is Kryptonian, or just Kon. Not that it matters. Either way, he's delicious.  
  
That thought brings me to something else nearby that is also delicious. Yummy. Juicy. Mouth watering.  
  
Kryptonian anatomy looks human. Big, but human. A bit large for a mouthful, but perfect for my hand. Nice. Very nice. Full, and firm, and delicious. Uncut. Well, yes, I guess he would have to be, if you think about it.  
  
He freezes a bit when he notices exactly *where* I am looking.  
  
"You're gorgeous." I reach down to give him a light stroke. "I must remember to thank your designers."  
  
"Oh." He pulls me down onto the cushions. "Please!"  
  
I smile, running my other hand down to his balls. "You want to just neck on the couch some more?"  
  
"No. Please." He arches into my hand, already weeping. "I means yes. I mean I want that, but... also..."  
  
"Understood." I wrap my legs around his and float us both out. "Lets move this back to the bedroom."  
  
I head for 'William's' room and settle us both on the Queen-sized bed. Not that I bring home friends very often, but when I do? This is the room they see. So this is the room with the supplies.  
  
I reach without looking over to the nightstand and pull out the lube.  
  
Kon ignores the action, caught up as he is in finding new parts of my body to taste. He has more enthusiasm then skill, but who cares. As the saying goes, it's all good. He rolls over me, touching and kissing at apparent random, until my first damp finger slides gently between his cheeks then continues on deeper.  
  
"You don't need to..." He freezes, not pulling away from my touch, but clearly uncertain. "I can take...   
"You can *take* a lot, I'm sure." I rub the entrance until he relaxes, then reach down again for another finger-load of lotion. "But this isn't an endurance run." A few more kisses distract him enough so that I can move one finger inside. "Besides.. I need to know..."  
  
I touch a soft bump of skin, and he leaves the bed. Straight up.  
  
"Good."  
  
"What the..." His cheeks tighten again, but not in a bad way.  
  
"Just checking." I pull my finger out for another load. "Alien physiology and all. If you were built differently?"  
  
"No. I've got..."  
  
I send back the finger,and another beside it. "So I see. Or rather feel."  
  
As I touch the sweet spot, he jerks again, stronger. This time, as I'm expecting it, I manage to keep him from actually hitting the ceiling. By the third stoke he manages to stay loose, getting the hang of the idea. Kid is a natural.  
  
With my other hand I hold up a little foil packet. "Normally I'd insist, just to be PC, but I assume?"  
  
"Totally immune," he answers, rubbing against me. "Not that they could take a blood test to find out - but with the bio field?"  
  
"It extends inside?" I add a third finger to emphasize my point.  
  
"Pretty much as far as STAR can reach."  
  
Probably a painful image. At least it will be tomorrow. Right now it just sends another wave of fire up my nerves at he vision of how far - and with what - they might have tried.  
  
"Ditto." I toss the packet. Captain Marvel is *beyond* immune. Even if something happens to Billy? Once I shift over.. I'm perfect again. Wonderful trick during flu season.  
  
With three fingers, I have him pretty well spread. He *is* more flexible then most humans. I'm managing to hit his sweet spot every few strokes, and after I wrap my other hand around his shaft? Teenagers have incredible recovery, but not much endurance. Which is fine. I cherish the look on his face as he comes hard, spilling over my hand as I match my inner strokes to his rhythm.  
  
"Man." Kon gasps when he finally catches his breath. " What did you do? That was..." He ends the sentence with a shudder of pure pleasure.  
  
He's still too sensitive for direct stimulation, so I just stroke around the ring. "You never?"  
  
"Not like that! Ro.." Kon catches himself before he finishes the name. "*He* wouldn't. Not inside. Never inside."  
  
"I understand," I say. And I do. "If he doesn't do that, he's not gay. Right?"  
  
"Something like that. He has this... guardian... and..."  
  
"Guardian wouldn't approve?"  
  
I don't get an answer, but I don't need one. The shudder I feel roll over him says it all.  
  
Pulling out, I massage Kon's back until he is again relaxed and on the mattress. Then I kiss him until a *part* of his tension returns. The good part.  
  
"Well, this is lecture number three. Ain't nobodies business if you do."  
  
"Not even?"  
  
I don't know if he means this 'guardian', or his own supposed 'brother' or whatever in the blue longjohns. Not that it matters. Same answer either way.  
  
"Especially not even."   
  
Which is fine philosophically, but leaves me with a practical problem. A big problem. A hard problem.   
  
I snatch up the hand which is making its way cautiously down my back, kissing the palm before setting it back even lower.   
  
I don't know exactly what he got from this Tanya girl. Possibly a blow job, though from the way Kon responds - or rather *doesn't respond* - whenever I send a kiss below his waist line, I tend to question even that. And from his nameless boyfriend? Even less likely. Especially if he wouldn't even try a finger massage. So that leaves the occasional hand job.  
  
Holy crap. He *is* a virgin.  
  
His hand is sliding over my ass, brushing tentatively against my balls.  
  
I lean back, rubbing my hardness against his thigh. That gains me a moan, then a shiver. He's kissing my throat again, and he's found the bit of skin behind my balls that makes me twitch when he strokes it. Which he does. Repeatedly. All of which is trying to distract my mind from my problem. My big, *hard* problem.  
  
I kiss him back and try to think.  
  
Kon is a *virgin*.  
  
A hot, willing, horney virgin. An eager-to-be-ex virgin. But still... the kid doesn't know his top from his bottom - much less which one he is. So - for a first time?  
  
I reach down. He's hard again, and at the first touch he rubs himself against my fingers. He's hard, and hot, and a bit slick from the excess lube that has transferred over from my hand. Good.  
  
I reach a decision.  
  
A bit untraditional, but I think it's right - so of course it is. Wisdom and all that. Pushing him down until his back hits the sheets, I tuck a pillow under his neck and shoulders.  
  
"Just rest back, Kon."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You trust me. Right?"  
  
My kiss absorbs his answer, but given the enthusiastic vigor with which his tongue follows mine, I assume that is a yes. Even a yes, please.  
  
Holding on to his shaft, I float up and slide right down. And freeze.  
  
He actually 'hurts' a bit starting in. Not much, but enough to shock me. When was the last time - was there *ever* a time - when someone's cock was hard enough to move *me*?  
  
He moans. The sound is wonderful. I forget the ache part and concentrate on the full. The fabulously full.  
  
"Wait, Kon." Stroking his chest, I urge patience. "Just a little deeper, and then you can thrust."  
  
I press myself down onto the last inch or so, until I can feel his curls under mine.   
  
He feels *very* good. Slightly hotter then human, and much firmer. I squeeze down. For once I won't have to worry about hurting a fragile partner.  
  
"Fuck me, Kon."  
  
That was the magic word. He drives up. Hard. Almost hard enough to lift me from the bed. He shouldn't have much leverage from his position, but when you can fly, who needs it?  
  
I hold steady, letting him move. He will anyway, and this way he can find his own pleasure. And mine. Very definitely mine.  
  
His shaft is long, and wide, and as I angle myself every stroke brushes over my prostate. Three strokes and I'm gasping, head back, skin on fire, getting fucked more truly then I have been ever before in my unfailing memory.  
  
I wrap his hands around my cock, stroking myself with his fingers as he drives wildly.  
  
Almost too soon, I feel him splash strongly inside me.  
  
I return the favor, spilling over his chest.  
  
Kon is still gasping as I float off, reaching into the drawer for a hand towel as I settle beside him on the bed. Too overwhelmed to speak, he snuggles against me until, quite a bit later, his breathing has returned to normal.  
  
"Billy?" he whispers against my chest.  
  
I brush back the fallen curl. "Yes, Kon?"  
  
"Next time?" He strokes my shaft, which begins to stir. "Can I? Will you?" he kisses my shoulder, and I can feel the heat of the blood rushing to his cheeks. "Inside me?"  
  
*FINIS*  
  
KKR 2003  
  
  
  
  



	3. Marvels

Marvels   
A (mostly) Captain Marvel Story  
  
by Darklady  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Mostly they are owned by DC, with extra claims by whoever isn't me. But I'm not getting paid, so it doesn't much matter. *sigh*  
  
Slash: Well... post-slash  
  
Pairing: Captain Marvel /Superboy.  
  
Sequel to: Looking for William Batson, Friends, Shazam.  
  
Rated: R+  
  
Archive: Ask first  
  
Dedicated: To Dannell. In blessed memory.  
  
SZ* SZ* SZ* SZ* SZ* SZ* SZ * SZ* SZ* SZ* SZ* SZ* SZ* SZ *  
  
"Morning." I whisper, pulling back the top layer from the lump of blanket curled into the hollow of my chest.  
  
Mink soft eyelashes flutter over sapphire eyes. "Bill...?"  
  
The question is enough to set me checking. Paranoia there. I would have *noticed* a bolt of lightning. OK - maybe not. Last night was... intense. But from the look of my hand on his shoulder I'm still William. Which is good, because I'm not sure how Kon would take waking up with the underage set. Not something I want to test out any time soon. Also good because I'm quite sure Billy isn't old enough to appreciate the unconscious strip-tease by the demigod emerging from my flannel bedding.  
  
Well? From the corner of my eye I catch a rising spot on my own sheet. Billy might be too young, but 'little Billy' sure wasn't. 'Little Billy' was appreciating the hell out of matters.  
  
I have the urge to tell Kon that. Hell, I have the urge to just kneel down and worship him, to babble about how perfect he was and how much I loved the feel of having someone inside me who could also be someone beside me, and of how I wanted time itself to freeze and this never to end. An urge I crush, because men don't say things like that.  
  
Not to mention that a luv-struck Marvel would probably freak the kid even worse then waking up in kiddie-land. So I pull up my brightest smile and ask. "You were expecting?"  
  
He rolls into my arms, and for a decent length of time the conversation is suspended in favor of a more pleasant use for our lips.  
  
Maybe the kneeling down and worshiping wasn't such a far off idea after all.  
  
Except? That would mean I'd have to abandon those perfect lips that were pressing into mine. Which was *not* happening. Not in any world I could influence. The brush of his palm over my balls decided matters. I left one set of fingers combing through those impossibly thick sable curls and sent the other set to find the matching curls elsewhere. Share the wealth as it were.  
  
He is morning hard, and I don't give a damn if it's me or last nights soder, because either way the hot thickness feels so damn good as I wrap my hand around it. Almost as good as his hand feels on me.  
  
Holy Moley! I gasp as his fingers clamp around my own swelling flesh. Finally someone who can make me *feel* it. I buck up - not even conscious of my own movement - but his free hand holds me in place. Presses me back into the mattress immobile as he ruthlessly pulls the pleasure out of me.  
  
Ten strokes and I'm cuming. Spraying myself over the hard flatness of his stomach.  
  
Damn - how did that happen? *When* did that ever happen before? Even when I've bottomed I've always been in charge. Always been edgily aware that any yielding was intentional. Deliberate. Always had to actively restrain myself to keep the strength of Atlas from overwhelming a merely mortal partner.  
  
This time? I might have been the mortal, for all the difference it made.  
  
I add a tickle to my own touch and that does it for him. Age and...well, not treachery, but a hell of a lot more experience. Not that he isn't doing his best to make up the gap. Dedicated student if I ever saw one. Going for a PHD in buggery. With honors.  
  
An evil little voice in the back of my mind asks why I wasted all those years when I wasn't even considering his... big brother... cousin.., whatever the Blue Boy Scout is. Other then incurably straight, which is of course the answer. Little Billy isn't impressed by that argument. Not given the pure mind-bending pleasure of those adamantium fingers that are still casually playing with my balls.  
  
And the kid isn't even at his full strength?  
  
I have this sudden vision of the Captain - red suit down around his white-booted ankles - being bent over and fucked though a bloody *mountain*. Damn if it doesn't make me hard again.  
  
Kid laughs at that. Not mocking - just happy. Sixteen year old body means he's got the recovery time of a rabbit in heat, so he just presses himself back into my hands and the whole who-comes-first game starts all over again.  
  
Don't think I'm going to hold out long this time either.  
  
I gasp as one long finger burrows between my cheeks. Where the hell did the kid learn to do that? About my last rational thought as the blunt nail circles the back door to heaven.  
  
Nope, I concede, wrapping my legs around his waist, I'm not going to last long at all.  
  
Doesn't matter - this is the sort of game both of us will win.  
  
Twenty minutes later I'm lying back, not quite catching my breath - it being technically impossible for my Shazam persona to become 'winded' by mere physical exertion - but definitely being aware as my heartbeat slows to it's more accustomed level. Aware also of time passing. Too quickly. I still have some, but Billy does haves school this morning. I'm just considering whether it would be grossly inappropriate - given that the kid was a virgin until last night - to suggest a quick bit of morning delight. I mean - reciprocity be damned - I'd be more then willing to bottom again. Not my usual style, but the wisdom of Solomon means being wise enough to be... flexible... when the situation calls for it. I'm about to say as much when a harsh buzz sounds from the living room.  
  
Mood killer.  
  
Kon slips from the bed and pads out to where his jacket had been discarded the evening before. "My phone. I'd better check in."   
  
I follow . Company - or just to start breakfast. For some reason I have quite an appetite.  
  
I watch with repleated appreciation as Kon reaches up to rummage through the jacket pockets and pulls out a S-logoed cell phone.   
  
"Folks?" I ask. I know he said he didn't have any, but someone is keeping the kid in 'Super' toys. 'Course, that could be any of the groups he worked with. Lots of folks will put of the props for meta-types. For the ego, or the public good - or maybe because it cuts down on destruction if the powers don't have the hassle of taking things for themselves. The last bit the JLA tends to discourage, but... the hint is sometimes out there.  
  
Captain Marvel, of course, is above accepting such gifts. More's the pity. Not that I can't just scoop up a fistful of diamonds, but there's a part of Billy that regrets losing the limelight.  
  
He's been listening more then speaking, but I break though. Kon slaps his hand over the phone and answers "Lab."  
  
I head back to the bedroom - both to give him some privacy and to pull on some clothes. Not that I can't hear both sides of the conversation perfectly well from here - hearing of whoever-the-hell - but it's still polite to pretend.  
  
Basically he's getting yelled at by someone called Stirling, who wants him back NOW! Well, actually last night some time, but in the absence of time travel now will do. Kon is trying to explain that he *did* sign out, and that someone named Harper had his emergency number - but snit-chick isn't listening. Seems that the powers-that-wanna-be decided at about ten that they needed to run some high risk experiment, and they had to delay it because 'security' wasn't on site. I decide I don't like the girls attitude, so I stroll back out and reach for a frying pan. Not the world best cook, but spending the better part of a century on my own has taught me something.  
  
"You have time for breakfast?" I pull out a carton of eggs. Normally Billy would hit the school breakfast, but I do keep supplies in the place for weekends and post-patrol snacks.  
  
"Sure." I enjoy the scenery as Kon wanders around gathering up last nights discarded clothing. He pulls the pants out from under the lounge chair. "Bring on the bacon and eggs."  
  
Bacon I don't have, but I figure some of the sandwich ham will be close enough. Toss in some onion and a can of those little potatoes and I can manage a decent skillet fry. I put some toast under the broiler. Two pieces won't be anywhere near enough. Not for a teen - and especially not if Kon's appetite has kicked in like mine has.  
  
Not *that* appetite, I slap down little Billy. Thing seems to have a mind of it's own. Not that my mind is thinking all that differently. A body out of a prime-time wet dream - and it's walking around my living room. Naked. That's bound to give rise to some... hopes.  
  
Hope. That's one more thing I know better then to let rise. I've done the morning after scene before - and my memory tells me I should be grateful that the kid is still here. As opposed to already out the window and half way to Antarctica.  
  
I mix the bits together and dump the scrambled eggs over the top. No milk - Billy gets that at school - but I have OJ. Or more soda. Not a great idea nutrition-wise, but I am *not* the kids dad - so I put it all out.  
  
Kon has collected the rest of his gear. Astounding how some of it traveled. He holds out the rags of yesterdays t-shirt and frowns.  
  
Damn. I'd offer him something fresh, but neither William or Billy have anything in his size. Besides which, I don't get the impression he's over-eager to have the S.T.A.R. crew find out just *how* he spent his 'holiday'.   
  
I say as much.  
  
Kon picks up mine - discarded over the TV - and gives it a sniff. Apparently it passes."They are going to yell at me anyway."  
  
I sprinkle some pepper into the pan and shrug. "At least they care..."  
  
He makes a face. "They care for their lab rat - or their office boy. Lift that. Go there." He accompanies the rant with broad gestures, hampered a bit by the occasional posture required to pull on his pants. "They don't care for ME!" His voice is muffled by the heavy t-shirt going over his head. "They treat me like I'm a kid!"  
  
Little Billy thinks the rant is cute, almost as cute as Kon looking Precious Moments sloppy in my black bull dom tee, but the Captain side apparently feels compelled to be the voice of reason. "You are still in your teens. That used to be a kid."  
  
Used to be enough to get me arrested for even suggesting what we did last night. Of course, back then actually doing it was unlawful at any age, but I knew what I meant. Too young to drink. Too young to screw. Old enough to get killed - there being a war on back then and all - but? Any age was old enough to die. Even nine. Just like any age was too young.  
  
"Yeh." Kon snorts, clearly unimpressed. "But they way they act, I don't think they're going to get over it." He sits on nothing to pull on his boots. "They just don't understand. What could be worse then being *sixteen* for the rest of, like - eternity?"  
  
"I don't know." The voice of reason again, but this time maybe Billy - the real Billy - as well. "Being twelve?"  
  
"What?" Kon spins in mid-air.  
  
What the hell - this *was* supposed to be mentoring. Even if it turned into the hottest sex in Marvel memory. But every idyll comes to an end. Usually because reality shows up to end it. I point to the picture on the refrigerator door. Little Billy in his red pullover posing for the school photographer. Last years shot - but I could bring out an album of them. "That's me. That's *really* me."  
  
He takes in the photo. "Since....?"  
  
"1940." I take a moment to enjoy his balls-kicked expression. "Yep. That's your's truly- and it's going to stay me until.. well, until I finally die and the wizard picks someone else to be 'master of the lightning' or whatever the Daily Planet is calling it nowadays."  
  
"Shit."  
  
A pretty appropriate response, if I want to think about it - but this is not a pity party so.... "Not always." I pull out a stack of toast and drop it own the table. Butter and jelly too. "It was pretty nifty for the first fifteen years or so. I mean, there I was, a nothing kid, and suddenly I'm flying around bashing evil scientists and getting the key to the city. It was really keen."  
  
Kon smiles. He knows the gig. But after a minute the grin fades. Because he knows the rest of the story too. Or suspects.  
  
"And then?" Because there's always an 'and then'. Generally not followed by 'they lived happily ever after'.  
  
I motion him to a chair.  
  
He takes it.  
  
"Then I started to notice things. Girls." That's not the only think I started to notice - but this is neither the time or the place for existential angst. But sex was a big part of the whole paradigm shift. Plus it's the part that's relevant to now.  
  
"Girls!?" Now *that* is the voice of shock. Total and sincere. About what I'd have expected from his big-blue co-gene if I mentioned liking my own gender.  
  
"Sure." I scoop up two plates of scrambled-eggs-and-junk and join Kon at the kitchen table. "I like girls. Women, I should say."  
  
Kon digs in. Mostly to buy time. Over a mouthful of eggs he says. "I *thought* I liked girls. Women." More pause, this time spent getting the grape jelly coverage perfect on a slice of toast. "Like I told you, I wasn't entirely a virgin, but...." Suddenly the jam became *really* fascinating. "But..."   
  
I could argue the virgin point, but... why bother? He's surely not now... at least not entirely. "The Tanya lady?"  
  
"Tanya, yah. I think maybe I loved her. Or would have. And Sterlings sort of cute when shes not being all bossy or pawing at Harper."  
  
I hide my smile. Kid doesn't hear the jealousy in that last word - but I sure do.  
  
"And then there was... well, there were a lot of girls. Some I worked with. Some were just... girls."  
  
Just girls, eh? Not exactly PC, but I get the meaning. Too clearly. "But they didn't do it for you?"  
  
"They didn't do *enough*." Kon rips at his toast crust. "And then there was this guy... boy really. I told you about him. One of us. And I *liked* him. I *really* REALLY liked him. And I though he liked me. REALLY liked me. But then he started hanging with this girl..well, two girls, and... I couldn't complain, because I like girls too. At least I think I like them, but... but..."  
  
"You like this guy better. You like him the way that he likes those girls." Isn't that how it always ends? Dropping my fork, I reach over to pat his hand. Just lightly. Like a friend. "I understand. I like women. I like men too. Maybe better. Well, definitely better. But women are nice. Very nice. And once I had the red suit, there were always a lot of them being nice to me. Or rather him..."   
  
Kon follows my finger.  
  
I point at the Shazam poster on the wall. Bright flat colors. Souvenir of a more innocent time when the Captain actually posed for such things. I keep it for the memories of the time - and or the memories of the man who took that photo. Time is tragedy for us all.  
  
"And you want them to like you." As opposed to the suit. Which is half his attraction to Mr. Whoever-it-is. Ninety percent of his attraction to me.  
  
"But that is me..." Or at least a part of me - but I don't need to add that, because I'm talking to someone who lives there.  
  
"It's easy when they're after the blue-and-red." He flashes that hear-stopping grin. The one that goes straight from my eyes to my groin. "Or in your case red-and-gold."  
  
"Too damn easy." Which is what he meant. I think back to my own mistakes. People would be surprised at that - but they shouldn't. Even Solomon had trouble with his wives. Lesson there. "Or it looks that way. Until you're in it and then..." I move back - but not away. "It isn't easy at all."  
  
"Because they're ... people." And Kon has too much of the hero in him not to feel that. Not to hurt for that humanity and all it's wants.  
  
"And we are too." Which means that so many of those wants we just can't supply. Not when what they want is not human. When so much of the motivation is not to make love but to seduce a god. But I don't need to say those words because his eyes tell me he had already been burned.  
  
"So you..." He looks at me. For answers, mostly - but that's all right. Because it isn't the 'tell me' that I see from the crowd. Isn't the demand for perfect wisdom descended from on high. No- this is the honest look. The 'give me a map' that come from trusting I've been down the road before, and figuring that whatever traps there were I've stumbled into and still survived. That looks respects me - and from that respect I answer.  
  
"I didn't get two kids out of a cracker jack box."  
  
It takes a few seconds for that to sink in. Not because the kid is slow - just because - well - I just dropped the best kept secret of the meta-world right into his slightly-bruised lap. When it does? Fork on the table - eggs in the air.  
  
"Mary and CM3?" His voice cracks. Actually cracks. Which is a nasty reminder that I've been in bed with a teenager - technical age be whatever it is. Proof that this was an even sharper reminder to him that *he* was actually for real in bed with the Cap. Which you've got to figure is an even greater shock. "I thought they were....  
  
"I know." Like I know damn well that I should be mentoring - not considering how his skin would takes if I licked off that speck of onion at the curve of his mouth. Focus, damnit.   
  
"But..." I read the rest in his face. He has worked with both of them, and...  
  
"Never believe everything a press agent tells you." Which you think he would know - having had an agent of his own - but the kid is young. Not to mention that Cap *does* have that white-bread persona that has convinced half the JSA of of his perpetual virginity. "Mary and Freddy are mine, all right." A moment more to let that sink in and I add. " By the way? Everything they tell you in school about teenagers being *far* too young for fatherhood? They're right. Wish they'd had those classes when I was a kid. Might have stopped me from screwing up." Hell - I wish someone had plain out stopped me from screwing. Period. Especially considering *who* I ended up screwing. I mean - couldn't I have done the beast with some nice heroic slut like Phantom Lady rather than.... I put that memory out of my mind. Not relevant to what I'm tying to accomplish here.  
  
"I love my kids." No hesitation there. I honestly do - whatever else may have come between us, there was never a lack of love. "And I'm proud of them." Again true - and not just because they've saved the world umpety- dozen times. "They turned out a lot better then I had any right to expect." Better then even a good parent would have a right to expect. Honest and loyal and forgiving and tough and ...well, I'm their father, but I don't think that has colored my judgment all that much. "But I honestly feel I haven't been a very good father to them. How could I?" Now I'm the one mangling my toast into sticky crumbs. "Most of the time they were growing up I was either flying around playing God or I was this kid who wanted to be their playmate rather then their guardian."  
  
"No!" It's a denial - but not of Mary or Fred. He believes me that far. "I mean CM3 - he... really likes you. Really he does. I mean, we've fought together and... He's a great guy. Really. I mean, we all voted to ask him to join Young Justice. Unanimous." A split second of social panic before he adds- "Mary too. I mean, they're both really cool."  
  
Ever heard about hearts swelling? It's real.  
  
Strange emotion. I mean - I've read about how important it is for your date to like your kids - but I never related it to...well.. me. Mostly because I never really had that sort of date. I mean - I had had people over. Sometimes. Mostly when they didn't have a safe place of their own, but still... that was dating. Technically. And I had had a few longer term relationships. Well, longer term fucking arrangements. My honest side knows it's not a relationship when the only thing you do together is screw. More like membership in a sports team. Like a bowling league for my prick. But this is...well..different.  
  
It takes me a moment to realize *how* different. This is... permanent. Oh - maybe not the physical part. I don't know if we'll ever do that again - although I'm beginning to hope really hard that we will. But even if we never get together that way - this is still a non-stranger. Someone I know. Someone whos family and friends I know. Someone who knows my history, and my kids. Someone I will meet with and work with for the rest of our unnatural lives.  
  
I wonder if Kon realizes that - and I quickly hope he doesn't. Not yet. He's had enough to cope with in the last twelve hours. I send up a quick useless prayer that whoever is running his show will give the kid a break before he realizes that his morning blush is likely to extend for the next eighty plus years. Along with an equally futile prayer that - when he does learn - he won't regret it.  
  
"CM3." Kon manages to say the strange title as if it was a name. Probably to him it is. He's heard stranger. " He really digs you. And I sort of know why." The hand that was comfort heads up my arm - with a different intent.  
  
Then again - maybe he's not having so much regret. New generation - and new attitude.  
  
I give the hand a squeeze before I set it free. "Thank you, Kon." The words come out with a lot more emotion then I had expected.  
  
"For the..." A gesture that would be rude - under other circumstances. Used here? When words fail? It's cute. Sexy as hell - but cute.  
  
"That, of course." *That* way of course. On a level of thanks that would have me singing hossanna's if I wasn't so shagged out. I mean - sex is always a gift but last night was Christmas and several birthdays. Complete with some very fancy wrappings. Yet it fades completely before the morning after. Not in a bad way.  
  
"But also for what you said about my kids." So much for what he's said about my kids. Not something I've realized until just this moment, but... I've missed that too. Speaking about Freddy and Mary. Hearing about them. Another layer of normal that isn't mine.  
  
"Oh - yeh - well." Strange. The kid that won't blush when he's been up my ass - and he's head-down at one sincere complement. "Meant it."  
  
He did. That's what makes it so - good. Damn good. I spare his blushes and busy myself with clearing the table. Don't quite know how, but while we weren't watching the food managed to vanish.  
  
He surrenders the fork - then stares at his hands. "You wanna fly over with me."  
  
A major bit of the morning-after uncertainly in his voice - but the offer is sincere. Not quite 'do you want to go steady' - but a damn sight better then the usual 'I'll call'. And a hell of a lot more then a taxi home.  
  
"I'd love too." But even as I say that I'm shaking my head. I want to. I really do. Clear air. exercise, wonderful scenery. Even maybe looking at the landscape. But Billy has to be at school today. On time. I missed to many days already, fighting Mordru, and I *don't* need another note to my Uncle. Still... I sigh.  
  
Kon misreads my hesitation. "It's OK."  
  
"No, it's not OK." Because it's not. OK would be hearts and flowers and going back to bed for at least a week while we learned each others souls along with our bodies. OK would be all kinds of shit that isn't here and isn't likely to show up here. "It's just how it is."  
  
Which we have to live with - because our sort of lives doesn't leave the room needed for OK.   
  
Kon understands. I see it in his eyes - and in his posture. The way he stands. The way he straightens, as if reclaiming the weight of the planet. "So. See you around."  
  
It's a dismissal. Not of me - but of something else. Hope - maybe.  
  
I ought to let him go. Open the door and let both of us step out into our destinies. But... even Captain Marvel is not that pure.  
  
"Kon?" The word breaks in my throat.  
  
"What?" Shot over his shoulder - half defensive. A broad shoulder - but are any shoulder that broad? Should they need to be?  
  
"Are you?" I step forward - into kissing range. " Are you busy... tonight?"  
  
*FINIS*  
  
KKR 2003  
  
OK - this finishes it. Unless I get a LOT more response from the public. (Not complaining - just not going to waste valuable bandwidth on stories that no one wants to read.)  
  
  



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